I had always heard that the triathlon community was pretty welcome, inclusive, amazing. When I started going to spin class at my gym (the class lead by an instructor, Holly, who has actually won her division at several Ironman and 70.3 races), I immediately saw that the people were friendly. Very cool. If there’s one thing I’m not a fan of in life, it’s when that Mean Girls high school attitude shows up among grown women.

Holly knew that I am doing my first tri in September. She told the entire class and started organizing people to join in, and now several people are registered to participate–meaning, I’m not doing this alone. Then I became Facebook friends with a few people. Red gave me training tips. Debbie saw me in the locker room before I was heading out to the pool. “Are you coming to Master’s swim?” she asked. I told her I was not a great swimmer, couldn’t possibly, but she let me in on the secret: “Master’s” just means that you’re older, not that you’re actually a master. She introduced me to the instructor and offered to share a lane, knowing that I am a weaker swimmer and would be intimidated sharing a lane with someone really fast and good. I’ve been invited to a party celebrating Vineman. We’re all going to head to Sausalito to watch a running documentary in two weeks.

The inclusiveness of this community has been a motivator several times when I felt like bailing on a scheduled training. But instead of bailing, I went, because of the community effect. I want to be ready to hang with them in September at this triathlon. I don’t want to miss the conversation in spin class. I have only attended a few of the Master’s swim classes, and already I can see how helpful it is to see better swimmers in action, not to mention the drills and having other people around makes swimming laps way, way more interesting.

I had no idea that I’d meet really great people who would be so warm and welcoming and open. I also had no idea that it would be such a motivator around accountability or just staying inspired.

I now understand that having a community to interact with is actually a huge part of success. Wanting to do a triathlon isn’t the same as actually training for one. There’s a lot more soreness and schedule juggling and feeling like I don’t know what I’m doing with actually, truly training! I don’t think I’d be hanging with this in the same way, without them.

The voice in my head, the ego/inner critic/fear stuff, was going crazy about two weeks ago.

Why bother doing this? It’s not like you’re working for world peace. No one gives a shit whether or not you complete a triathlon. It’s going to be a lot of work. It’s going to take a lot of time. You’ll have to negotiate more child care. You’re going to feel busier and more pinched for time. Why do this?

My interest in triathlon started after I was waylaid by a stress fracture in 2012. The fracture happened because I ramped up training for a 1/2 marathon, way too quickly. Stuck on the couch and jonesing for some cardio release, I ordered You Are An Ironman by Jacques Steinberg and was immediately hooked. I started going to my gym’s pool for aqua jogging shortly thereafter, at which point I realized that I couldn’t swim a single pool lap without my heart rate going through the roof. I didn’t know how to swim. Next came a few swim lessons.

Then I got this big idea in my head that I wanted to do a half-Ironman. Then came infertility, and sadness, and then came re-committing to triathlon training, then came baby, then came total overwhelm.

So when that voice piped up asking me, “Why do this? Why bother?” I searched myself for a good answer.

What I came up with, was this: I just want this to be the summer that I trained for my first triathlon.

For nearly the past two years of my life, my mind has been focused on pregnancy and baby-baby-baby. I don’t regret that, and I wouldn’t have chosen differently, but I also see how within the past few months, I had arrived at a little tipping point where something had to shift. Life could not be waking up, childcare, work, childcare, cramming time with friends or husband into the nooks and crannies, go to bed and get up the next day and do it again, all while I was feeling like I had less energy.

Whenever I thought of training again, I’d just feel tired and overwhelmed. It didn’t feel like the right time.

Then, about six weeks ago, I started really realigning my priorities with my vision. I decided that the “Big Stuff” needed to come first–point blank, no excuses, no negotiations. I asked myself what went on my “Big Stuff” list, and it was family, writing, unstructured time, and triathlon. Of all the things I wanted to put on that list, triathlon training was there.

I realized that I had to stop waiting for it to be the “right time.” I had to stop waiting for when life would “feel normal again” after having a baby.

If a triathlon was something I wanted to do, had longed to do for the past three years, then it was time to just train for it.

So why do this? Why bother?

I’m doing it because I want to be fit and healthy, and running alone has clearly run my body into the ground a few times, so the cross training helps to keep me active.

I’m doing it because already, even only a few weeks in, I feel like a happier, saner person just from the catharsis of all of that exercise.

I’m doing it because it reconnects me with something that I felt pre-baby…like my life could be my own, and that could be okay.

I’m doing it because I want something in my life that isn’t career or family, something just for me.

And mostly, I’m doing it because for several years now, I’ve wanted to, and I’m tired of longing for something and being fascinated by people who do the something, and watching documentaries and reading books about the something. I want to do the things I long for.

Really, you gotta figure that there’s something to this for anyone who trains. It’s not like sitting on a bike saddle for a long time is exactly comfortable. Swimming is a pain in the ass. Running is the thing I like best, of course, but even I get annoyed with little aches and pains, and don’t want to make time for the foam roller.

Point blank: I believe that if we want to do something, we owe it to ourselves to give it a try when it’s something that keeps coming back and coming back.

I don’t have a lot of time. I feel guilty when I’m at spin class and don’t see my daughter before bed. I make trade-offs around housework. There’s always another plate spinning in the air.

And yet, I’m happier and less overwhelmed and far better able to deal with any kind of stress, because I’m doing something I’m excited about doing. That’s worth it.

I am doing things that I didn’t think that I could do. Like last week, when I swam that half-mile followed by a one-hour spin class, and then running the next day. Or yesterday, when I went to my Godawful Yet Crazy Effective Weight Lifting Class and then topped that off with a run when I got home. After typing this, I’m going to head to the pool and theoretically cap off another swim followed by another spin class.

I say “theoretically” because I feel like I’m always kind of looking out for a potential injury. This means that I’m both being very careful, as well as feeling very paranoid. The threat of injury feels like the monkey on my back. Last week, my inner knee felt a little wiggly-strange-sore, and it was hard not to catastrophize the entire thing, projecting into the future where I’d require surgery.

(Oh, hey–drama!).

But also? I’m excited and happy. I’m sore, I’m tired, and not a single day goes by where I don’t think, “Can I actually do this?” But alongside all of that, I’m excited and happy. Also, really purposeful. It’s not that my life didn’t have purpose, before, but it’s so cool to me, to be evaluating my day and asking myself what training piece I’m fitting in that day, and then executing that piece and feeling good about the fact that I finished. When I sleep, I’m thinking about recovery, and when I eat, I’m thinking about fuel.

First, an announcement: this past week, I swam 30 laps in the pool. I did four laps at a time, with resting in-between. Oh, and great news: my arms did not break off. Only after getting out of the pool and calculating things did I realize that this is just shy of a half-mile. I’m feeling much more confident that I can manage a 1/4 mile swim in eleven weeks. (Totally aware that unless you actually know me IRL, you couldn’t care less about this little factoid. But me? I’m doing the happy dance!).

* * *

But the bigger story: for the second year in a row, I went to Vineman as a spectator. I watched some of the later swim waves, and watched everyone moving from the swim to bike transition. I took copious notes: Walk bike to the top of the hill before clipping in; pour a little water on feet before putting on socks to remove any sand; don’t bother accelerating out of T1, because there’s a stoplight and cars and it’s dangerous and the cop directing traffic will probably make you slow down, anyway.

I went to get a cup of coffee, and when I returned to T1, I was shocked by how many people had already left. The swim portion of the race was almost over, and the thought occurred to me: I wonder who’s going to be last–and how being last will affect them.

Someone always has to be last, you know? Even if everyone was pulling a blistering pace, there’s always going to be the last person to exit the swim, the last person to exit transition.

The thought occurred to me that I very much desired to clap for the last person, just as much as I was curious as to what he or she would be feeling.

The last person to exit transition was a woman. It turned out that there were a lot of us who didn’t know her, who stood along the course sidelines (which were already being dismantled by the volunteers) to cheer her on.

I had wondered if she would feel demoralized, look sad, look hurt or tired.

It was none of those things. She just looked happy. Excited. I watched her pulling on her bike shoes and un-racking her bike, and she was chatting with a friend the whole time, a big grin on her face.

* * *

There’s a woman in my spin class who is completing Vineman, today. She just decided, much like I did a few years ago, that she was going to do a triathlon and that Vineman would be her first, and she started training. She has a kid and a full-time job.

As I was surveying the race, I kept feeling like I wanted to follow this rush of, “Yeah, this is what I want to do!” and then reigning that in. For now, I hold that feeling in check. I’d like to finish this sprint in a few months and see where that leaves me.

But there was this moment when I heard, very clearly, the voice in my head going, “You’re a mom; you’re running a business; if you decide to start training for this race, it’ll just be an empty promise. You’ll start, but then you’ll quit.”

Then I thought of this woman in my spin class. I looked around at the other spectators, many of whom were family, many of whom were toting around babies. When I was getting coffee, a woman with a three-month-old was behind me in line; her partner was somewhere out on the course.

That’s when it came to me: “Duh. Parents and people with full-time jobs run these races.”

You know how something can be completely obvious, but when it hits you, it feels like this life-changing OMG kind of realization? It felt like that.

I’m still keeping myself in check. I’m pretty sick of being injured, and throwing myself full-force into a training plan for anything has been my kryptonite. Though back to that half-mile that I started this entry with–I didn’t realize that I was going for that long. I just swam a comfortable pace, with a few breaks, for a set amount of time. No pushing, no trying to “get better.” Just getting out there, and putting in a decent effort, for a set amount of time. Keeping it simple, no pressure. Sounds like a legit plan for me.

This always (!) happens to me: I make up my mind that starting on X day, I’m going to ramp up my training.

Then I get sick.

I also, by the way, have an uncanny predisposition to getting foot injuries right after I buy a new pair of running shoes (and not injuries from the shoes. Last time I bought running shoes, I tripped in the driveway as I was getting out of the car to bring the new shoes inside, and sprained my ankle).

The fact that I’m currently getting over a cold is your tip that I must have recently said to myself, “I’m going to get super consistent about my training.” However, I haven’t recently bought any new shoes, so my feet and ankles should be fine, for the time being.

This scares me to type: I have twelve weeks to my first triathlon.

Adding to the pressure accountability, some people in my spin class might be doing this triathlon with me. This means that bowing out would be very public.

With everything, right now I’m going for time more than anything specific or structured. Go to the pool, do laps for 20-30 minutes. Finish the spin class. Get moving for the run.

I’m using the app 10k pro to manage my runs; it calls out start and stop times for alternating walking and running, which keeps me honest so that I don’t over-do it.

* * *

Actually, wait. There’s something else to share, here.

I’ll share that I feel completely stupid typing every single sentence that I’ve just typed. My fear is having a field day.

I share that I’ve been sick and fear goes: “They’ll just say that that’s an excuse.”

I share that I have twelve weeks to triathlon, and fear goes: “Everyone knows you’ll never make it. You’ll quit.”

I share that I’m attempting a particular training schedule, and fear goes: “Everyone is going to look at this training schedule and see all the problems with it, all the places where you aren’t planning it right.”

I share that I’m going for time rather than anything specific or structured, and fear goes: “That’s a lame way to train; your training should have a focus.”

This despite the fact that I know that every choice I’m making is just simply this: me, doing the best that I can.

The truth is that I feel a little sick to my stomach with sharing any of this. It all feels overwhelming and impossible, and quite out of control, like I can plan all that I want and even be consistent and put the time in, but I still might feel like a failure again in just a few weeks. Every time I get an injury, I feel like I’m weak. Every time someone trying to be helpful says, unhelpfully, “You probably got injured because you were pushing too hard,” I want to snap at them, “You have no fucking clue. I was taking it slow. I was pacing myself. Then I tripped in the stupid driveway.”

But here’s what I know: I’m going to go for this. I really hope that in three months I’ll be writing my first race report, sharing all about how awesome it was. I also hope that in the weeks leading up to the race, I’ll be sharing about how good I feel as I get progressively stronger.

I won’t have expectations about that, however. I’ll just keep staying with this: I have hopes for where this can go, and I won’t give up.

In my last post, I talked about how fear can keep people from copping out and fully showing up. They’ll say they don’t have time for things, and really they do–they just aren’t making the time, because they’re afraid.

Well, first things first: since my last post, I have been training. I’ve focused on running because that’s where I’ll get the fastest cardio gains that will benefit me with the bike and the swim. That’s also what’s easiest. Lacing up shoes and hitting the pavement is easier than special shorts and helmet and gloves and checking the bike tires onandonandon, and definitely easier when time-crunched than driving to the gym for a pool work out.

So that’s the good news. I’ve been training, regularly. I’ve even thrown in vinyasa flow pretty regularly and have been taking a new approach at my studio, going as fully as I am able into every pose rather than deciding to sit out the hard ones (ha!).

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way (whew! thank goodness that I’m not coming back here to report that yet again, I fell off the wagon with doing any training!), there’s the part where it hit me today that, “Um, you have to actually sign up.”

If my goal is to one day do a half-Ironman, then at some point I’ve got to actually do a sprint triathlon, and then an olympic. Back in December, I was all over the online boards that post triathlon events, thinking about all the training I’d do and how by April I’d be so ready for a sprint triathlon (I had my eye on the HIITS series in Napa Valley).

And now it’s March 20th and I know that there’s no way I’d be ready for a sprint triathlon in three weeks. I can definitely swim 750 meters in a pool. I can definitely bike 12 miles. I can most probably run 3 miles, and my only hesitance in claiming that comes not from a cardio perspective (I know I’ve got the cardio) but as someone who has been injured something like, oh, fifty MILLION FUCKING TIMES, I would hesitate to run three miles in combination with those other activities all on the same day, for fear that it would tip me into the injury zone.

All of those activities as separate events would be an effort, but do-able.

It just probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

Moving in increments

I’ve moved in increments. I’ve gone from no training, to haphazard training, to training regularly and not copping out on myself about it.

Now, if I actually want to do this thing, then I’ve got to actually sign up for an event. (Why sign up for an event, rather than just enjoy training on my own? Because I LOVE events. I love the racing environment, all those people together and the nervous tension and the cheering and the 10-second countdown and the camaraderie).

Next step: sign up for some freaking sprint triathlons.

I’ve just spent some time online and have identified three triathlons that I could do this year. Two are sprint distance, one is olympic, and all give me a few months more to get my bearings with training.

Next step: telling my husband I want to do them (which is sort of making it official even more than registering for them, because hey–child care. Critical).

I’ve also identified a few 5k races that I can participate in between now and this fall, just so that I’m not jonesin’ too hard for that race environment. It will be fun to do a few short fun runs in community with other people.

Speaking of moving

I alluded to something in my last post that I wasn’t yet able to share details on. The deets? We bought a house! A little more than a week ago, we moved! It’s kind of a crazy experience to have gone through the whole mortgage process and become homeowners, all while juggling my business and being a mom.

Some great news in all of this? The garage is huge, and we don’t really need to use it for our cars. I’m thinking about bike trainers. Also, the new location of the house is closer to some more bike-friendly avenues that are less heavily trafficked than our old house.

I’m excited about what is to come, this year. I feel like finally, the path is cleared for me to dive into training the way that I’ve always wanted to.

There are a lot of things that I’ve felt afraid of doing, but I knew that if I just applied myself, I’d figure out a way. I’ve always felt that “if you want it badly enough, you’ll find a way to make it happen.” To that end, I’ve accrued degrees and certifications, built my own business, traveled on a shoestring budget, written books, and more.

But when it comes to my body, the trust is not there.

It’s difficult, this not having trust that something can be done. It puts me in touch with my humility and reminds me of what it’s like for the people that I generally find myself helping in other areas–the people who haven’t yet written the books they wanted to write or started the businesses they wanted to start. Being in this place of not trusting that I can do it when it comes to exercise and my body and training brings me to that place of beginnings.

In this place, I see all of the hurdles and road blocks that I’ve helped clients with for several years.

Mostly, I see how I make poor choices around my handling of time, in response to fear.

I’ve seen this a gazillion times when helping clients with the things they want for their lives: someone says they want it, but then they don’t bring consciousness to their habitual ways of being that have kept them from having “it” (whatever the “it” is), and they don’t actually put time into it.

This “not putting time in” is just a reaction to feeling fear. Fear is uncomfortable. Change is uncomfortable. No one wants to keep doing more of what’s uncomfortable.

When someone says, for instance, that they want to write a book or start a business, but then they don’t actually do it, I guarantee you that fear is leading the way, and choices around how to apportion time are pulling up the rear.

The same has been true of me in the past week. My daughter has been home sick (so no day care coverage) and this means even less time than usual for running my business or getting things done around the house. On top of this, there’s another Big Life Change around the horizon (can’t say what, yet) and navigating that has taken a lot of time.

But if I am honest–and I want to be–there have been days where I could have gotten a run in with the jogger stroller, and didn’t. There have been days where my husband has come home, 100% willing to take over, and I could have gone to the gym to get a swim in (but I didn’t).

In service to giving myself credit, there have also been days where I did get the run in (three days this week, in fact, which is saying something given that prior to January 1st, my major form of exercise were uphill walks with my daughter in the jogger stroller–huffing and puffing, yes, but hardly something that will train me properly for the triathlons I want to enter this year).

I haven’t done nothing, but I haven’t taken full advantage of what I do have. I think that I feel afraid of the task before me, of training, and I don’t trust my body, so I go to this space of copping out a bit on training.

I have seen how clients make elaborate plans and then external circumstances “intervene” and the clients say, “I couldn’t…this and this and this came up.”

But I know that the truth is that if I really wanted to make the workouts happen this past week, I just would have. I chose other things. I don’t say any of this to beat myself up. I say it just to be real.

You know what I mean, this “being real”? Can we all just own it and be real about the fact that sometimes, we don’t want to, and sometimes, we make other choices, and it’s not because XYZ happened. It’s because we just got lazy, and felt afraid, and so we didn’t want to, and made different choices.

That admission is what honesty looks like. I felt afraid, so I told myself the story of selling out on what I truly wanted.

And now, before bed, I’m going to revisit my training schedule. At some point, I’ll share my plans here. I feel like I don’t want to say “this is my training schedule” until I actually have put the schedule into practice for one full week, and have had the opportunity to fine-tune it and ensure that it’s what I’m really going to follow through on.

In 2012, the doctors told me that all of my blood work indicated that I wouldn’t be able to have a baby. Then they did some ultrasounds that confirmed that they didn’t see me ovulating. Every single marker that we looked at was bad, bad, BAD. The fertility specialist said he didn’t think that my body was making eggs. I felt so strangely “betrayed” by my body, and it all felt so hard to deal with, that the last thing I wanted to do was share that in a public way.

What does that have to do with running or triathlon training? I started infertility treatments. You know, the kind that you see on movies that involve injections. Needles. I couldn’t inject myself because it freaked me out, too much, so I’d lay on the couch and watch Chelsea Lately (which was still on-air at the time) and my husband would inject my abdomen. The doctors told me that while I was getting the injections, I shouldn’t run or do any hard training. That’s why I stopped writing, here.

Those didn’t work.

All of this took up most of my life in the early months of 2013. By spring, I hadn’t worked out in awhile and felt kind of nuts. My husband and I decided to quit pursuing fertility treatments and start looking at what else life had to offer. We also went on a bunch of vacations, just to get away from all the madness. Infertility is an emotional business. We needed a break.

By fall of 2013, I was ready to resume my training. I felt better. I did about two weeks of Bikram yoga, then decided that I truly couldn’t return to that kind of masochism and switched back to heated vinyasa, which I now know (truly) is my home. I started biking and running, again. It was pretty brilliant.

Then…I found out that I was pregnant!

In June of 2014, my daughter arrived. As I type this, she’s now seven months old and stirring awake from her nap, in the next room–which means I need to wrap this up, quick.

In the seven months since she arrived, via c-section, I’ve recovered from that surgery and adjusted (somewhat) to being a mother. I had another surgery in November (not wanting to reveal details about that one, but we’ll just note it for the record books). Doctors told me that I could start running again after the new year.

Now it’s January of 2015. It’s the new year. I’m going to fold up this blog update, and go out for a walk with my daughter, and…run.

I’m back. I’m afraid of being injured. I’m somewhat intimidated by how out of shape I know that I am.

But I’m back, and totally ready to geek out on training and talking about training. Hope that others are along for the ride.

I got in a visit with my chiropractor, who is a freaking genius. He’s such a freaking genius that he has a full practice simply by word of mouth, without a website to link to. I tried very hard to keep my whining about injuries to an absolute minimum.

I signed myself up for some heated vinyasa yoga classes and paid particular attention to strengthening, lengthening, and stretching my back. Woot woot!

Amid all of this nonsense, the heater at my pool went out, and didn’t get fixed and up and running again until just today, so that’s a week worth of skipped pool workouts, and thinking about that admittedly had me losing sleep, last night, as I tossed and turned thinking about how it’s now something like 30 weeks to 70.3 and I’m not even as far along in my base-building period as I had wanted to be.

ALSO, California is getting unusually pummeled with rain this season, and I had planned to be set up with a bike and getting out to ride by now, but with the rain, that hasn’t happened. I don’t dare ride the stationary bikes at the gym again, as I believe that it’s an ill fit on the bike that triggered the back pain.

So, okay. Again, more pieces of the puzzle of how to train for endurance events fall into place. They contain basic things like:

Duh, Kate. Don’t think that because you did a “basic” 10-miles on the bike, and don’t feel like you really exerted yourself, that you get to skip some foam rolling, afterwards.

Best to go ahead and pre-schedule your appointments with your chiropractor, as opposed to simply calling him up whenever you’re injured.

Strengthen the kinetic chain with Vinyasa yoga.

December Training Schedule

I’m making a formal announcement on my professional website about my 70.3 plans, next week. I’m doing that because I need the increased accountability. But here’s the basic outline of a plan for December:

Sundays — reserved as “long run” days, but right now that’s “long walking.” I’m doing a lot of walking in minimalist shoes, to strengthen the small muscles and fascia in the feet. By the end of December, workouts will include things like “walk three miles, run 5-10 minutes.” Also, vinyasa yoga. By the time 70.3 rolls around, these will have become days when I run 8-10 miles.

Mondays — Pool days. Since Mondays will be hard days to drag my ass to the gym (it’s Monday, after all!), I’m going to simply time myself. 30 minutes, 45 minutes. As long as I’m in the pool for X amount of time for that training day, all is good.

Tuesdays — Arms and abs, again to further strengthen the kinetic chain, adding in X minutes of walking and X minutes of running (examples: Walk 30 minutes, run 15 minutes). Also, possibly a day I’ll work with a trainer once or twice a month. When I get closer to 70.3, this will also probably be a day when I get some miles in on the bike.

Wednesdays — Pool drills. Instead of simply doing a basic freestyle, I’ll do kickboard drills, speed drills, and vary my strokes. This is also the day I’ll reserve for chatting up a swim coach, should I decide to get in a few lessons (probably will happen, as swimming is my weakest event). Also, yoga.

Thursdays — Reserved as a bike/run day. For December, that’ll be pretty basic. Low-mileage on the bike (10-15 miles) immediately followed by walking to get my legs accustomed to the transition. By the end of December, the plan is to be able to do 13 miles on the bike, followed by walking for 3 miles and then a short 15-minute run. By the time my 70.3 comes around, that’ll mean actual true “brick” workouts, where I do a decent mileage on the bike, followed by legit mileage on the run.

Fridays — recovery day, but more accurately, a day where I’m hitting up a massage therapist or making the trek to my chiropractor. Also, yoga.

Saturdays — recovery day, with literally nothing going on other than being as lazy as possible.

Some other time, I’ll have to do a post on how exactly I will manage to fit in all of these workouts. That should be interesting.

Week one of 70.3 training is complete. I didn’t miss a single day. My singular focus for the first 4-8 weeks is simply to build a strong base. By “base” I mean–build a strong foundation.

I want to strengthen the chinks in the chain, by working on my core and spine, doing exercises that strengthen the small muscles in the feet (so lots of walking around in minimalist shoes, though no running in them), and keeping my heart rate low.

Once my gym puts out their annual discounts on training packages that always come out around the holidays, I’m hiring a trainer who works very specifically on strengthening in a core, foundational way.

Then I’m hiring the trainer who is known for completing triathlons, to see what she has to say.

The one tiny-big, possible, (but maybe not) setback?

I’m not yet running. My training plan includes running, but right now I’m simply walking those miles, not running them.

I have an appointment with a podiatrist in early December to check out my feet. That bruise that appeared on my foot from a few weeks ago was probably a soft-tissue irritation–inflammation of the joint, I’m guessing–and since I know that I can wait until mid-January at the latest to start running again, that’s what I’m doing. Why not? I’ve got the time, so let’s not push anything.

Two separate x-rays were done and no stress fractures have turned up, and it isn’t hurting to walk. So–let’s just walk.

The annoying thing, though, is that I’ve had some back pain since starting cycling. I haven’t yet bought my personal bike and am using the ones at the gym. I think they’re not fitted for my body–and I’m short, so I’m already at a disadvantage on most gym equipment–and I’m guessing my sacro-iliac joint is tight, or perhaps my psoas muscles. Date with the chiropractor is being set.

The good news? I’m back in the pool, again. I’m swimming after a few months’ hiatus. While I’ve lost speed, I don’t think I’ve lost technique. When I started swimming over the summer, it had been so many years since I’d last swam that I felt nervous even putting my face in the water. A panicky sensation would start.

To go from that to swimming laps, even if there’s a lot of huffing and puffing happening, is a big leap. Now I’m refining.

Wetsuits and Fear

Have you ever pulled on a wetsuit?

Let me rephrase: Have you ever pulled on a wetsuit when you are 5’3″ and 145 lbs, with D-cup breasts because your auto-immune condition threw your hormones out of whack, causing you to (uncontrollably) gain 15 lbs, with the person on hand to help you a…guy?

(Actually, it was 20 lbs that I gained, but I’ve lost 5 since starting medication).

Only those people know what it felt like to be trying on triathlon wetsuits, which are not really cut for the curvy set. The wetsuits that were big enough to handle the curves were too loose in many other places. The wetsuits that were smaller couldn’t handle the D-cups.

So I was in the dressing room, trying to peel on the gazillionth wet suit–an aerobic feat in and of itself–and the inner critic voices started to really get going.

You are going to look so stupid in this. Who the hell are you, anyway, training for a half-Ironman when you’ve never even done a sprint triathlon? This is so stupid. You feel stupid. Why are you doing this?

But then I gave myself a little pep-talk, namely one that reminded me of a few facts.

Fact: I already know that I can do a sprint distance.

Fact: My 70.3 is still a long ways away.

Fact: The wetsuit will feel awkward to try on the first time, but if I just keep pulling it on and off, eventually it will feel…normal. Totally normal.

Then, at the end of the day, I ended up not getting one because the sales associate in charge of renting them realized that I was going to be swimming in a chlorine pool, and these wet suits were only for open-water swimming.

Well, then.

My gym pool is heated, and I’d mostly wanted the wet suit as “insurance” against freezing cold winter days to come, but I left without the wet suit. Then some other swimmers at the pool tipped me off that you could get skin-tight, very fitted long-sleeve tops made out of swimsuit material, and this could help to provide some added warmth on the colder days.

But the point is…

The point is that everything that is practiced eventually starts to feel normal and natural. The voices that tell you that you’re stupid, or so behind? They’re not the ones you want to act upon. Sure, listen to them. Hear what they have to say, because embedded in there is some clue as to what’s really going on underneath the surface (i.e., I’m feeling insecure about completing a triathlon of this magnitude, and that’s something to take into account).

But just don’t take action because of them. By the time I’d peeled and unpeeled several triathlon wet suits that day, I no longer felt afraid, and my critic wasn’t so harsh. It was just a triathlon wet suit, after all. Nothing to be afraid of.

Coming soon: Buying a bike. I’ve avoided doing it because I feel so overwhelmed by the options, but clearly it just isn’t working for my system to be on those sucky gym bikes that are so terribly mis-aligned.